


If They Find Out, Will It All Go Wrong?

by flowercrownmikey



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bonus Phone Sex Chapter, Childhood Friends, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, One Direction feature briefly, PWP, Pining, Secret Relationship, this entire thing is basically just porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowercrownmikey/pseuds/flowercrownmikey
Summary: He doesn't know what comes over him, but a slap echoes across the room, and there's his hand-print in red over Calum's ass."What?" He asks, quietly, licking his lips. There's quiet for a few more seconds."How long you wanted to do that?" Cal asks finally, breathless."Way too long," Michael breathes, caressing the area where the redness is already raising on his skin, probably gonna be there for a few hours. Michael's dick is pulsing. Every part of his body is hot. "Gonna let me fuck you?"OR// (5+1) The five times Calum and Michael sleep together but don't want anything to change, and the one time everything changes. Basically a fat LOAD of smutty smut smut ;)
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Comments: 10
Kudos: 59





	If They Find Out, Will It All Go Wrong?

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Friends by Ed Sheeran
> 
> omg its me, still here, posting after two years. Oops. So I was reading through really old one-shot drafts a few weeks ago, and came across this unfinished beauty. I couldn't get it out of my head, and I just needed it finished, so here it is, a bunch of smut, pining, and barely any drama compared to my usual stuff. I think it turned out super well! 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy a bunch of smutty Malum chaos ;)

It started long before the first time. In fact, Michael couldn't remember a time when he and Calum weren't attached at the hip; couldn't remember a time when he didn't look at Calum's lips and have those locked up thoughts threaten to get back into his head, god forbid if they ever were to come out of his mouth. But either way, if he thinks back, it started when he was just twelve years old. He doesn't have to think back though really, remembers it like it was yesterday in fact.

He was a chubby kid and a geek who was obsessed with pizza and ignored everyone just to play video games and teach himself guitar chords, so really, the only thing that had changed was that he grew into his body. Calum was always good-looking, even at the pre-pubescent age of twelve and it sometimes made Michael self conscious but Calum didn't care for female attention anyway, and even if people were attracted to his looks, he was just as weird as Michael on the inside. They were playing Mario Kart, Michael was bowser and he had set up Calum as princess peach just because he could, and Michael was ever so slightly in the lead. And then the game was paused. 

"What the hell, Cal?! I was winning! You cheat!" He immediately protested. He turned to look at his best friend, dropping the remote when he saw Calum's curious face staring at him, literally just staring. Michael's insides turned into jelly, and he couldn't stop the smile that came over his face. "What?" He knew he was blushing. 

"I dunno," Cal mumbled. "Just..." Michael watched him look down, a small smile coming onto his face that Michael knew was a nervous tick and not a sign that he was happy. "Did you kiss Ellie Walker at Luke's birthday party?" Michael's nose scrunched up at Luke's name. He didn't want to go to Luke's stupid party, but Liz had convinced Calum with cookies, and Calum convinced Michael with pizza. He couldn't refuse the pizza. He remembered the question and shook his head. 

"No." He gave the short answer, but then decided to elaborate when Calum still wouldn't stop staring at him. "She told me I had emo hair, and I said she had crooked teeth, and then she stomped on my foot. I don't know why people think we kissed." The rumor had traveled through their grade at lighting speed. "I've never kissed anyone."

"Ever?"

"Never ever." Michael shrugged. 

"Me either." Calum looked down again, and he looked sad. Sad Calum was like a hurt puppy, you couldn't help but go to help it, and Michael found himself abandoning his controller on the floor (FYI if they had continued playing he totally would've won. Calum can suck on that information.) and crawling over to his friend. He awkwardly patted Calum's knee before squishing his face into Calum's shoulder. 

They were always naturally too close, looking back, always too comfortable with personal space. He should've seen it coming, but he was twelve and a little slow. 

"What's up, Callie? Talk to me." Michael nudged him and looked up, leaning his head on Calum's shoulder so their faces were only a few inches apart. Michael didn't think anything of it, they were just that close. Calum looked down so their eyes met and Michael's tummy did that weird flip that it did whenever he'd see Calum changing his shirt in gym. (Which, again, should've made Michael at least question himself a little bit.) 

Michael waited for Calum to say something but he didn't, just continued to stare. He hadn't ever acted this weird around him; Calum was usually the loud one, never a person who held his tongue. It was plain weird. 

When he did talk, it was in a whisper, "I don't know. I just think it's weird that I've not kissed anyone. My dad said he had his first kiss when he was ten." The room went silent. Calum cared about his dad's opinion a lot; he played football to please his dad, he started learning guitar because of his dad, he got his grades to make his dad proud. Michael knew Calum's dad wouldn't really care about a petty kiss, but if Calum was upset then he'd be sympathetic. But Calum was staring at him again, and his tummy was still weird from the flipping, and suddenly he realized too late how close they were, and then that was it.

He doesn't even know who leant in first, just that one second there was space between them, and the next their lips were locked. It was awkward, for sure, Calum's lips were a lot fuller than his, and none of them had the experience to carry it out properly, but nonetheless, Michael's eyes closed, and his tummy was in absolute knots, and his hands were shaking so badly that he had to link his fingers together so Calum wouldn't notice. They chastely kissed for so long that Michael got cramp in his neck. 

As soon as they pulled back, Calum did two things. He said, "We shouldn't have done that." Michael agreed, "But I'm sort of glad we did. But yeah- we uh, shouldn't do it again." Michael remembered thinking that he must've been a terrible kisser. If only it were that simple. The second thing Calum did was walk out of the room, but they were still best friends, so of course, an hour later, he was texting Michael on his crappy phone, telling him that he would be over later so they could play fifa before school tomorrow and that was that. If only. 

That's when it started. That little moment that was over in a flash, but it was what kicked off the chain reaction that followed. They may have never spoken about it again, but when people spoke about their first kisses, Michael's eyes would find Calum's, and they would both smile, like it was nothing but insignificant; something that just happened. It was the start of something big, but 12 year old Michael had no way of knowing that. 

*****

**o n e**

*****

He's just turned sixteen and it's December 3rd, 2011. Michael is fucking shitting himself. Literally. They're about to play and there's literally twelve people in the crowd and his hands won't stop shaking. They've practiced a bit in Ashton's garage but only three times with Ashton. Michael's lucky they even found Ashton in time to play the gig because otherwise he wouldn't even be here. He see's Luke bounding towards him from the bar, all long limbs and white teeth and forces a smile back, ruffling Luke's hair as he approaches. 

"Hey," Luke whines flatly, running a hand through his hair to fix what Michael didn't break anyway. "You look like you're about to give birth, Mike. You nervous?" 

He briefly wonders why he made friends with Luke Hemmings and of course Calum's voice enters his mind, telling him to _play nice_ and bringing a smiling Luke into his bedroom with a scratched up acoustic guitar over his shoulder and a perk in his step. He wondered how they started there and are now going to play on a stage together, in front of twelve people. 

Twelve is a lot. Like a small family. Michael's going to play in front of a small family. Oh god. 

"Not really." He replies to Luke in false nonchalance. Luke shrugs and bounces back over to the bar, sitting on the seat beside Ashton and beginning what looks to be like an animated conversation. He's smiling fondly at them, he knows he is, but he can't help it. No matter how much he wants it to just be him and Calum still, sitting in his room in dirty clothes and playing endless rounds of fifa with a pepperoni pizza between them, he knows that this can only be a good thing. 

They're good. They aren't All Time Low or anything, but even Alex Gaskarth can't have been that great when he started out either. Ashton's amazing at the drums Calum really likes the bass, and Luke has an amazing voice, no matter how awkward and lanky he is. Michael can play about seven chords. 

He smiles when he see's Luke laughing at something, leaning into Ashton like they've known each other years and not only a few mere weeks. This can only be a good thing, he's sure of it. 

"Your nostrils flare when you lie, did you know that?" A voice says from next to him. Michael spins around and can't help but smile at Calum. He's makes an obscene gesture around his own nose to prove his point and bursts out laughing. Michael shoves him and Calum's face softens, his shoulders drooping before he wraps an arm around Michael's waist and turns him to face the stage. "No need to be nervous dude, I think we're pretty good, actually." 

"But there are _people_ here." Michael whines quietly, not one to hide anything from Calum. 

"You're going to fucking kill it, Mike." Calum taps him on the shoulder and walks away to join Luke and Ashton at the bar before they have to go on the stage. 

Michael sighs. He doubts it. 

*

They fucking _kill_ it. They play better than they played in all of their practices and Luke's voice is strong and Calum's vocals are heavenly and Ashton almost breaks one of his drumsticks in half he's so into it. Michael can't stop grinning when they go back down to the bar area, feeling completely high on a stage-adrenaline rush. He could maybe do this forever. 

He feels like an adult. An adult who can achieve anything and his dreams seem like they're actually in reach. Bet this is how All Time Low started out too. Fuck it, he's going to be the next Jack Barakat. Dick jokes and all. Maybe he should get a boner shirt for luck. 

Luke, Ashton and Calum are all happy too, smiling and laughing with him as they sit at a table and talk about how stupid it was that they were nervous and how well they played. Calum leans over the table at one point, using a finger to make the boys lean in. "I've got some whiskey back in my house, you guys wanna celebrate?" 

Ashton drives them all back to Calum's place and they all still can't stop smiling. 

They're all ridiculously underage, Ashton being seventeen as the eldest and Luke and Calum being the youngest at fifteen. Michael's in the middle of course, proudly the second oldest in the band. Old enough to get his own way, but not so old that he has to watch over everyone else. A blessing. They drink the whiskey like they're in their forties, throwing it back sour and with shot glasses that Calum had stolen from one of the kitchen cupboards. The whole time they're drinking their still beyond ecstatic about the show, talking about their future and what they should so next. The drunker they get, the wilder their idea's are. At one point, Ashton suggests they move to London- just _because_. Drunk Michael thinks it's a fabulous idea. 

Drunk Michael's a bit stupid. 

"You guys think I could be Jack Barakat, right?" He asks the band randomly, staring at each individual person in turn. Luke flares his arms dramatically. 

"Totally! I'm Alex Gaskarth!" Luke's a lightweight but nobody expected any less. 

"I think you need to calm down, buddy." Ashton says gently. "You feeling okay?" Luke flares his body completely, doing something Michael can't even begin to comprehend with his legs. He watches in awe though, because he's drunk enough to be in awe by Luke Hemmings. Luke starts giggling at nothing. "Okay, let's get you to bed." Ashton stands up. 

"You guys don't mind sharing the spare bedroom, do you? Me and Mike will share my bed." Calum states, head bobbing to his own bed and then back over to Michael. Ashton smiles and shrugs, already helping Luke to his feet and trying to make him walk on his own. "I'll show you where to go." Calum whispers as he opens the door to make sure his parents won't hear him. Michael's sure they probably already have and are just too polite to say anything because they know how much that show meant to the boys. Michael loves Calum's parents. 

He doesn't need to be told to get comfortable at Cal's house, having already been staying over there for years and is very familiar with every nook and cranny of Calum's bedroom. He start's stripping, rummaging through Calum's closet when he's only in his boxers to find something to wear. He's still about 90% drunk and all of the hangers seem to be moving even when he's not touching them. At some point Calum enters the room again, closing the door behind them and letting the silence of the house take over for all of ten seconds before he's whispering. 

"That was fucking awesome." Michael grins at the clothing he's still facing. "Can you believe we actually did it? We're an actual band- with like- a _drummer_ and everything!" Michael giggles at that. "What're you doing anyway? Get in bed, you dork." He turns around to Calum already under the covers, snorting at him.

"Can't find anything to wear; too drunk." 

"Jus' wear your boxers." Calum shrugs. "Turn the light off before you get in, and hurry up, 'm cold." Michael shrugs, leaving the closet door open in favor of stumbling over to the door to turn the light off. He stubs his toe on the bed before he actually manages to get in it. "I'm so happy!" Calum almost screams.

"Shh!" Michael giggles. "It's late." 

"I don't care!" Calum's quieter this time though. He leans over, caging Michael in with his legs and giving him a goofy grin. Michael rests his head against the pillow, feeling the room spinning. They really shouldn't have drank so much. "Mike just imagine...like- big crowds, lights, expensive guitars and Luke with his stupid leg thing. Just imagine what our lives could be like." Michael can't stop smiling and it makes Calum huff. He sits up on Michael's stomach, pouting. "Okay, close your eyes." Michael does so, blackness surround him. He feels Calum's weight shift but he doesn't get back on his own side of the bed. "Imagine you're twenty, okay, and we're playing another show-"

"Two shows in four years. We're the next big thing!" Michael can't help himself. He feels Calum's hand cover his mouth and has to refrain from licking it or something. 

"Except this time there are thousands of people staring back at us... and we're in an arena somewhere we don't even know the name of and all we can hear is people screaming and shouting our names but its okay, because this happens every night. Ashton goes on stage first, gets behind a drum kit that's worth more than this house and then me, you and Luke walk on, and we can't hear ourselves think over the screaming. We're 5 Seconds Of Summer- the next big thing, and we're huge; we write awesome music and we tour the fucking world with our best friends." Calum goes silent for a few seconds and Michael wonders whether he should open his eyes now. He does when Calum removes the hand from his mouth. 

He see's that they're still in Cal's bedroom, Calum is still sitting on his stomach and there's the same mark on the wall next to the door that's been there for three years when Michael threw a sticky toy at it and it stuck, leaving a black blob when he pulled it off. (Calum never quite forgave him.) Calum's still staring down at him with that same awed look on his face, his brows furrowed like he can't quite believe what he just said. Michael can't wrap his head around it either. He doesn't know what possesses him to do it, maybe its the alcohol, or the look on Calum's face, or the fact that Michael is sixteen and there's someone sitting centimeter's from his dick, but he leans up and knocks their noses together, joining their lips like its something they always do. 

It is something they've done. Once. When he was _twelve_. 

He's blown away when Calum kisses him back. He half expected Calum to pull away and make a joke of it, pretend like Michael didn't almost fuck up their entire dynamic. Soft hands go to his cheeks, caging him in as they lean back into the bed together. Their chests press against each other and Michael has no fucking idea where to put his hands; they're limp by his side, letting Calum take the lead in not only the body language but in the kiss too. It's Calum who coaxes his mouth open and deepens the kiss, (he can taste the whiskey against his tongue) and it's Calum who starts moving his body, sliding his hips against Michael's own. The movement is almost so small that he's sure he's imagining it. 

They've been kissing for a while when he feels Calum's hands slot into his own. It takes every little of bit of willpower he has not to smile into the kiss, but then his hands are moving and he's touching Calum's body, fingers sliding over a clothed back. "You can..." Calum murmurs as an explanation, taking his own hands and putting them on Michael's hips. His entire mind clouds up and all he knows is that Calum's voice isn't usually that raspy or torn up. Then again, they don't usually kiss and put their hands all over each other like this. 

He can feel himself getting hard, knows Calum can probably feel it too because there's no space between their bodies whatsoever. He knows Cal can feel it when the younger boy presses into him further, fitting their hips together like puzzle pieces. 

"Cal," Michael feels the need to warn but it goes ignored, Calum grinding his hips down suddenly so that Michael can't help but curse out at the friction. " _Fuck_." 

"Good? You good?" Calum asks, pausing in his movements. His head goes to the crook of Michael's neck and rests there, hot breath hitting his skin. 

"Good. Please don't stop." Michael slides his hands down to Calum's hips, coaxing him into moving again. It works, and then they're grinding together, clothes being the only barrier. Michael decides he should fix the problem, moving his hands to slide up Calum's shirt up to his neck. "Off." He murmurs, hoping he isn't going too far. They're not going far enough fast enough in his opinion. Calum probably agrees because he hurriedly pulls back, pulling the shirt over his head before connecting them again, this time their bare chests press together and that is _so_ much better. They rut against each other, Michael pushing his hips up as Calum presses his own down, kissing like its the only thing they were born for, before Michael loses his brain to mouth filter, getting so close to his orgasm that he can't help it when he's speaking without thinking. "Fuck me." 

Calum stops completely, pulling away from his mouth but keeping their bodies glued together. They make brief eye contact where Michael realizes what he actually just said, his cheeks burning despite it being a cold night. The paleness of his skin doesn't hide it at all. 

"Are you... Do you want that?" Calum asks quietly, which, well okay, it isn't a yes but it's not a no either. "You want to be fucked?" The look in Calum's eyes alone almost makes him come in his pants right there. Thank god for years of teenage masturbation for giving him at least a little bit of control over his own orgasm. 

"You heard me." Michael replies indirectly, not wanting to say the actual words. He can barely even make eye contact. 

"Okay." Calum whispers. "I've never... but okay."

"I've never either." Michael says. 

When he wakes up the next morning, he runs straight to the bathroom and throws up all the whiskey he drank. It's when he looks down, head hanging over the toilet, and see's his own pale naked body kneeling before him, that he remembers Calum pressed against him, Calum's fingers slipping into him, Calum sliding a condom on, Calum telling him that this is a one time thing and him agreeing like it's the most normal thing in the world. He remembers the slide of Calum's plump lips against his own, remembers how much it hurt when his best friend started fucking him, remembers how neither of them could last. Remembers them kissing the entire time, not able to get enough of each other. 

Michael smiles despite the smell of sick burning his lungs. 

At breakfast he, Calum, Ashton and Luke talk about recording a new song for Luke's YouTube channel. Nothing changes.

*****

**t w o**

*****

"That was fucking incredible!" Luke yells. "Fuck!" He's sweating, guitar still around his neck and his hair is stuck to his forehead. Michael still pulls him into a much needed hug, Ashton and Calum joining them so they're all connected, Luke's guitar pressing painfully into his thigh. 

It's the 23rd of February, 2013, and they're in fucking Europe, and they've just played their first ever show supporting One Direction. 

"Celebration drinking is in order!" Ashton yells when they've pulled away from each other. They all frantically give some sort of loud agreement, Luke giving his guitar to a tech who walks over to them. They find a nightclub, shamefully name-dropping themselves so seventeen year old's Calum and Luke can get in too. It's not the best thing they've ever done, but it's definitely a far call from the worst too. Ashton orders a round of shots and they all grin at each other over the bar, each picking up their own shot of clear white liquid- Michael doesn't even know what it is. "To the band." Ashton raises the shot, each boy copying him. 

"To the band." Michael mutters back. They all take the shots, still grinning at each other. Ashton orders another round. 

*

"Have you seen Luke?!" Ashton screams into his ear, the music melting into his voice. Michael spins around on the bar stool, catching himself on the bar before he can stumble off. That was funny. He laughs. "Mike?" Ashton puts his hands on his shoulders, steadying him. Michael tries to nod. "Luke?" 

"Luke is blonde." Michael says, and then he bursts into another fit of laughter. 

"Jesus." Ashton says to him, stepping closer. "Come on, stand up." Michael blinks, and suddenly he's transported (???) to the middle of the dance floor, Ashton nowhere to be seen. He spins around in a circle, but no, Ashton is gone. Ash is gone and Michael must be a magician now, because that is the only logical explanation for this. He squeezes his eyes shut on a blink again, and when he opens them, Calum is in dancing in front of him with a girl, smiling all dopey and swaying to the pop music that's rattling the floor. Michael steps forward and falls into him, the girl taking a few steps back. 

"Calum!" He yells. "I'm magic!" 

Okay. So he's drunk. He's eighteen, and he's played a big show today, and he's out with his friends, and he's very, very drunk. But Calum seems just as drunk as him, because he immediately agrees and starts laughing, wrapping his arms around Michael's neck and swaying to the music again, his eyes closing. Then it's just them, dancing to the music against each other, letting the music rattle their eardrums, breathing the scent of sweat and alcohol mixed together. 

He blinks and suddenly Calum's face is cheek to cheek with his own, their bodies closer than before, and there's a thigh between his legs, hands grabbing at his hips. 

He can't think straight. Another blink. They're kissing. Then they're kissing and the music is gone, because somehow they're in the backseat of a cab, tangled up in each other like there isn't a stranger driving the car that could expose them right now. What could the stranger expose though, really? A few kisses between friends and one late night a few years earlier? 

When Michael pulls back from Calum's mouth, they're in the elevator. 

He should be worried. He's blacking out; can't remember leaving the club; can't remember who made the first move on who; can't even think of his own middle name right now. But he's kissing Calum again, and it feels like its been too long since they did this, feels like it did when he was just sixteen and they'd played a show to twelve people and not twelve thousand. 

And then his back is hitting a bed, and Calum is hovering over him, his eyes glazed and unfocused; probably reflecting Michael's own. There's a line of saliva going across his bottom lip and Michael doesn't think before he leans up and sucks the lip into his own mouth, Calum's chest dropping against his own and a strong hand going to his thigh. 

He doesn't want to miss a second of this, doesn't want to blackout again, so he keeps his eyes peeled, focuses on every little brush of skin, every little kiss and soft touch. Calum kisses him and it seems to last forever, only when the mouth goes to his neck, they're both naked and Calum is spreading lube onto his fingers. 

When Michael wakes up he can't remember anything after getting into the club. 

It's when feels Calum, naked, curled up on his own naked body that he works out what happened, and that's when he decides that they need to talk about this. 

They don't talk about it. Nothing changes. 

*****

**t h r e e**

*****

He's sweating more than he does on stage, Calum below him looking completely out of it, eyes rolled back into his head and hands tightly fisted into the hot sheets, the bed almost moving with them; everything loud and hot and- 

Michael gasps as he sits up, pushing his hair away from his forehead and the covers more over himself. Despite being boiling in the dream, the room feels as cold as anything. He looks around at the empty hotel room, his suitcase in the middle of the floor, open with clothes falling out of it, shoes surrounding it like a moat. God, he's a mess. He sighs and falls back down to the bed, pulling the duvet over his face and groaning. 

"Go away," He moans at his hard-on, "Traitor." 

He turns onto his side and snuggles more into the bed, groaning when his dick stays as hard as ever, maybe even worse than before. "We're not having sex with Calum again." He pauses, lifts the blanket to look at his penis as if it'll say something back, some kind of plea in its own defense. "It's not right." He justifies, nodding at himself in agreement. "Stop thinking about Calum, fuck." He reminds himself, putting his hand onto his dick and trying to push it so it doesn't tent his pajama bottoms. Not letting another doubt into his mind, he quickly squeezes himself, hissing and lying back into the bed before stroking his hand up and down. 

"Don't think about Cal... Don't..." His strokes get faster. "Oh, fuck. No, no, no." His hips twist so he's half grinding against the bed, face pressed into the fluffy hotel pillow. "Fuck... Not about him, not about- ugh." At least the hotel room doesn't feel as cold anymore, he fleetingly thinks. "Shit, fuck-" He squeezes briefly, fucking into his own fist. "Cal, Cal, fuck." 

All that's in his mind as he comes is tan skin below him, strong fists gripping the cold bed sheets. 

*

Later that day, when both of the bands are together after just finishing a show, Michael feels guilty as ever watching Calum laugh with Luke as they chat on another sofa in the room and drink bottled water. One Direction are with them, but the tour is at least halfway through at this point, so they're all closer than they were at the beginning by some miracle. 

It's been months since that one night in the hotel room with Calum. _Months_. And Michael still dreams about it almost every fucking night and he can't help his own dreams, doesn't know how to make them _stop_ before someone catches on. 

He knows this isn't how it should be. He shouldn't just be waiting for another opportunity to sleep with his best friend, to be fucked into the mattress by him while they're drunk out of their minds and pretending that it won't fuck everything up, pretending they aren't lying when one of them hisses the whisper, _"This'll be the last time. We can't keep this up."_ and they nod like they don't know that this'll happen again a few months down the line. 

Except he doesn't know if that's true for Calum anymore. They're more famous now, really famous; and Calum has girls at his every beck and call, sometimes even two or three, pretty as anything and doing anything and everything he wants. Realistically, he doesn't even need Michael for the odd one night stand anymore. 

Michael shouldn't need him. 

Is something wrong with him? He's got the girls too, not just Calum. He has girls, boys, women, men, everyone too, just like the rest of the band. And yet he's here, staring, pining, dreaming, _wanting,_ knowing he shouldn't. 

"Hey." A voice startles him, the weight shifting on the sofa he's perched on as Harry Styles joins him, sipping at his own bottle of water and leaning back into the plush cushion, smiling at him with dimples and tired eyes. "You alright? You seem... out of it, today." 

Michael side eyes Calum as he makes a funny face at Luke before focusing his attention on Harry, nodding slowly. "I'm pretty good." He puts on a smile and sticks his tongue out, being stupid as usual. "Nice hair, can Lou do that to mine, too?" He pokes at Harry's bun.

Harry doesn't giggle or joke back like he usually does though. He just gives Michael a soft, sad smile and shrugs, glancing around them before putting his arm around Michael's shoulders. 

There's a moment, and then, "It'll hurt everything, you know." 

He turns in shock and pulls away slightly, utterly confused as he exclaims, "What?" 

Harry's eyes flicker over to where Calum and Luke are still talking and back to the boy in front of him, shrugging. 

"No, no, no- I think you've taken something wrong- there's nothing-" 

"Okay, sorry, sorry." They fall into awkward silence in which Michael doesn't know where to look. He chooses Calum and Luke again, even though he shouldn't, watching them laugh and talk, scroll something on Luke's phone before laughing again. Watches Calum's throat as he drinks his water. "I felt- on X Factor, I felt really strongly about- bout this guy."

Michael whips around. In their world it's common knowledge Harry Styles is probably gay. It's also common knowledge that anyone talking about it, Harry included, is against many, many contracted rules. "Harry..." 

"I have to tell you, just- shhh, okay?" Harry laughs quietly and scoots closer to him, Michael leaning in so they're facing each other. "This guy... we'd just kiss a bit, every now and again. Yeah," He looks down before smiling at him. "But um, we- worked closely together," Harry cringes, Michael tries desperately not to jump to conclusions. "and he... had this, like, range, of other girls and stuff. Straight as they come, he was, or something." Michael frowns at him and pats his knee in what he hopes is comfort. Harry smiles lightly, "He was straight, but we'd kiss, and- touch, and stuff. It, um, it didn't end well." He bites his lip, seemingly trying to think of the right words to say. "It hurts, it hurt even when I thought it wouldn't, and- and I would hate to see someone who I think is a great person go through that, too." He stares at Michael a second too long before his eyes flicker back down. 

Michael hesitates before asking, "It's Louis, isn't it? That's why you guys aren't that close." 

Harry doesn't have to say yes for him to know that it's the answer. 

He glances over to Calum and Luke, surprised to see Calum looking back at him, hypnotised as Luke excitedly talks at a member of their crew about the new guitars. Calum slowly brings the bottle of water to his mouth, winking before turning away again and drinking some, and Michael avoids thinking about how utterly fucked this situation really may be. 

*

After the show, they all go back to Calum's room (purely because it's the biggest this time) and watch shitty nighttime TV together with even shittier room service food, laughing with each other about the fuck ups of the show and the fans that had sexual signs. Somewhere between putting his head in Luke's lap and having Ashton pretend to give Calum a lap-dance he dozes off, feeling like his eyes have only been closed for a few minutes when he opens them again to a semi-loud noise and the room is deadly silent. 

He looks toward the noise that woke him, seeing Calum with a towel round his waist, rummaging through his suitcase for clothes as water droplets run down his shoulders and back, soaking into the towel. 

"I fell asleep?" Michael asks him groggily. 

Calum startles and turns with a smile, pushing his wet hair back from his eyes and trying to rub the water off his face. "Yeah," He answers. "You were out flat. I told the boys just to leave you here. Did I wake you? I'm sorry." 

"S fine, Cal." He stretches and shuffles so he's sitting against the pillows, eyes still on Calum as he gets out clean boxers and puts them on the TV stand. "Time is it?" 

"Late, love." Calum answers. They stare at each other for a minute before Calum breaks into a breathtaking smile, chuckling and grabbing his underwear from the nightstand. "Do you wanna turn around so I can get decent?" 

"No." Michael says before his brain can stop him. Calum's eyes blow wide for a second, and Michael feels his cheeks getting redder as they continue to stare at each other. Without another second of hesitation, Calum shrugs and drops the towel, Michael's breath hitching as he watches the maori boy turn around and bend over, pulling the boxers on much slower than necessary. "Tease." He breathes. 

"What?" Exclaims Calum, turning with a grin as he straightens out the elastic of his pants. 

Michael blushes properly then, "I said breeze. There's a breeze in here, I'm cold." 

His best friend laughs before striding over to him and pulling the blanket further up his body, pressing the sides so they're tucked under him before folding the part at his chest so he can breathe properly. He glances down at Michael's face briefly, still smiling wide, "Better?" 

He can't help himself. Calum is wet and almost naked and leaning over him, and so, _so_ good-looking that he thinks it's justified. He doesn't do much, just arches up so their mouths are close enough that it's obvious what he wants, if Calum wants it too. He doesn't move forward, but he doesn't move away either. Michael leans up some more out of pure impatience, and before he knows what he's doing Calum's plump bottom lip is between his own. 

It doesn't take long before they're kissing. It's slower this time. The first time they're completely sober. _God,_ Michael can't believe they're sober. 

Slowly but surely, Calum manoeuvres onto the edge of the bed leaning over him and pawing at the blanket he's just tucked in, pulling it loose but not moving it out of the way. Michael just can't get enough of his _mouth_ , his warm, soft mouth. The mouth of his best friend. He's tempted to tell Calum how good he taste's, all minty and fresh, but he's terrified that the lack of alcohol and too many words mixed into a cocktail will turn into a disaster, so he just opens his mouth further instead; hopes he gets the message. 

Something must work, because Calum shuffles closer to him and slides a leg over the cover to bracket him, presses his body down into the satiny quilt covers and puts a hand on Michael's scruffy jaw, keeping him in place. 

He doesn't know who moves the cover first, it could be him, trying to touch Calum too, or maybe its the younger boy, trying to get them closer together; but soon enough the cover is being pushed to the end of the bed, and one of Calum's hands links in with his own, squeezing. Michael breaks away, tilts his head to the side to try and get the oxygen he knows will give him some common sense. Harry's words play in his mind on repeat, blurrier than ever but lingering there like a bad smell. 

Calum trails wet kisses down his neck without hesitating. 

Michael can't help his breath shortening, his neck outstretching further. I mean, he _could_ , but he doesn't want to. Instead his hands find their way to the back of Calum's thighs and before he knows what he's doing he's pulling him up like he would a girl when he's about to go down on her. He doesn't give either of them time to process things before he slides his hands into the legs of Calum's boxers and squeezes his ass. 

"What..." Cal starts, Michael beginning to kiss as the inside of his thighs which are just right there, eye level to him, right next to his mouth. Calum's tall shadow is making the room darker. "What is happening right now?"

Michael stops kissing and looks up at him, takes in the broad chest that's still wet and on display, his hair that's stuck to his forehead in clumps, the redness of his lips, the water running down his jugular. He bites his lip and pulls Calum closer to his mouth, lifting his head closer to the towel where he can see the bulge of Calum's dick hardening up and asking permission with his eyes.

Calum rocks further into his face silently, and that's all he needs to start kissing over the fabric softly, bringing one of his hand's forward to help him shuffle the boxers away and start to kiss at the crease's of his thighs again. 

"My um-" Michael glances up briefly. He's shocked at both how close Calum's dick is to his face, and how much he already wants a taste. "It's-" He doesn't wait for Calum's stuttering to end as he pokes out his tongue and licks, pulling the younger boy even further onto him, craning his neck up so it almost feels painful. _"Jesus,_ Mike." The hand he's already brought forward tentatively wraps around Cal's length, manoeuvring so he can put the head in his mouth and kitten lick. "Oh my God. What is _happening_ -" 

Michael sighs and drops his head back to the bed, snorting in laughter. He looks up into his best friends eyes again. "You're really not giving me the vibes that I want from this." Calum bites his bottom lip and only looks a shred guilty. 

"My dick is still in your face." 

Michael snorts again before looking at it and back to Calum, glad to see he isn't any less hard. "It is." He smirks, raising an eyebrow. "You gunna let me suck it, or...?" He watches his best friends eyes blow wide. 

"I- uh, sure. Yeah. Yeah. Definitely." Michael can't help but laugh again, shaking his head as he lifts up a little, grabs Calum's length again and strokes softly, loving the way his eyes flicker briefly before locking back onto his own. He leans forward slowly, a sort of warning, before taking the head back in his mouth again, testing and tasting as he gets a feel for it. 

Honestly he has to admit he's chosen the most awkward angle for this. 

He tries his best anyway, licking whenever and wherever he can, taking as much as he can from the angle even though he can't crane his neck any further in fear of fucking snapping it or something, but each moves still makes Calum more of a mess on top of him. 

He's quiet at first, like he doesn't really know what to do with himself, but Michael tries harder, goes harder, and soon enough little moans rise, followed by louder moans and two hands threaded into his hair, and soon enough Calum starts rocking his hips back and fore, rubbing his bare ass against Michael's clothed body, pushing his dick into the older boys mouth, moaning loud and unashamed. It's beautiful, is what it is. 

He decidedly loves Calum's ass, can't stop squeezing and pinching and stroking. It's probably why he ends up spitting on two of his fingers and pressing them against his rim. 

"Wait," Calum gasps. Michael doesn't wait, can't wait, and he presses one finger in ever so lightly, "God, God, fuck-" Michael pulls it out again. "No waiting, don't wait- go." 

With a chuckle, Michael licks the finger again and presses against his rim, pushing in slightly. 

"Fuck," Cal whispers, and Michael smirks to himself as he fingers him slowly, "Why don't straight guys like this again?" 

"Because," Michael whispers, "They're afraid it'll ruin their hyper-masculinity." 

"Big words, Mikey," He chuckes, "They don't suit you."

Michael just shakes his head, continues with one finger as he forces his neck up to lick at his length again. Calum writhes against him, making a high sound in the back of his throat. He presses his dick down, forcing Michael to lick, and then starts rocking back and forth, riding his finger. Michael presses the second in. He hisses, but makes no form of protest when Michael curls his fingers every time Calum leans back into them. 

"Fuck me," he says quietly, moaning still, "Want you to." 

"Yeah?" Michael breathes, slightly surprised, "I'm bigger than my fingers, babe." 

"Good." 

Calum jumps off him, and Michael sits up, still fully clothes, and smirks, biting his lip. Calum stares at him, blushing darker as Michael stretches out his arms and makes him wait a little. He gets onto his knees, gently prying Calum's hands from the bedding before putting them at the bottom of the headboard, making him grip the wood. Calum breathes heavy, lets him do it. 

Michael pulls up his bum, strokes down his back and then pushes it down suddenly, making him arch. Calum moans at even that. 

"Get naked," Calum says even though he can't see him, and Michael can't help but laugh a little. 

"No." 

He whines, "Wouldn't be the first time I've seen you naked, Mikey."

Michael doesn't say that from this angle, Calum wouldn't be able to see him anyway. He plans to take him from behind, just like this. 

"I'm not shy," Michael whispers, as he unzips his jeans and slips them low enough that he can pull his dick out over the top of his boxers. He spits into his hand, rubs it over three of his fingers this time, and gets to work on open Calum up properly. 

"S' a power thing, then." Calum states breathlessly, "Asshole- I want you naked."

"Can't always get what we want." 

"I can from you." 

And that statement, Michael thinks, is too true. 

He curls his fingers purely to distract the Maori boy, listens to him moan and fall apart and feels him pressing backwards like his life depends on it, keeping hold of the headboard where Michael placed his hands. He almost wishes he could see Calum's face. 

"How you feeling?" He asks in a whisper, hearing the shallow breath and small moans, Calum rocking back and fore ever so slightly. 

"Kinda hurts, honestly. Why do you let me do this to you?" 

"Cause I like it," Michael whispers. He crooks his fingers, rubbing against a sensitive spot, and Calum moans and drops to the bed a little. Michael pulls him back up; pulls him into his own naked crotch as he continues stroking ruthlessly. "Still hurts?" He asks, smug. 

"Fuck off," Calum moans. Michael looks at the tan skin all splayed out for him, and cannot fucking believe he's even allowed to see this. Fully clothed. His best friend is at his most vulnerable, and Michael gets to kneel behind him and make him fall apart. "Like it - I like it-" 

"Yeah?" He's smirking. 

"Yes," he moans, "Yes, you - prick. Fuck me 'fore I come." 

"Dunno," Michael says lowly, "I quite like the view right now... Could just get you off like this." 

"Or you could like," He pushes his ass back, "Actually be inside me." 

Michael can't argue there. He pulls his fingers out - watching Cal deflate into the bed with a whine, not even bothering to let him comprehend what's happening as he pulls his ass back up again. He leans over him, puts his hands back on the headboard. "Stay," he murmurs. 

"M not a dog." 

He doesn't know what comes over him, but a slap echoes across the room, and there's his hand-print in red over Calum's ass. 

"What?" He asks, quietly, licking his lips. There's quiet for a few seconds. 

"How long you wanted to do that?" Cal asks finally, breathless. 

"Way too long," Michael breathes, caressing the area where the redness is already raising on his skin, probably gonna be there for a few hours. Michael's dick is _pulsing_. Every part of his body is hot. "Gonna let me fuck you?" 

"What the fuck d'you think I'm waiting f-" Michael slaps him again, watching his ass ripple, and then, as Calum's moaning, spits into his hand, rubs it over himself and presses it against his hole. "Fuck - fuck. Mike." He pushes back, but Michael pulls away again just to see if he'll whine. He does, pushing his ass back further. Michael looks at the matching hand-prints, gently places his hands over them - Calum hisses slightly, they must hurt - and moves forward, rubbing against him. "Never teased you this much. Never teased you at all, actually."

"You missed out," Michael breathes, and finally, starts pushing in - he'd love to tease further, love to make Calum cry begging for it, but he's teasing himself too at this point, can't wait any longer. Calum makes sounds of discomfort before he's even halfway, and he stops, softly stroking his ass and up and down his hips until his breath evens out and he pushes in a little bit more. He looks down and spits to where they're joined. 

"Did you just-" Michael spits again, and pushes in further, cutting him off. "Ah - okay. Fuck. Okay. Can I let go of this?" 

"No," Michael says simply, looking at how white his hands are as he holds the wood of the headboard with a vice-like grip. He bottoms out, squeezing his eyes closed as Calum moans - in pleasure, or pain, he doesn't know. Can't comprehend much other than _tight_ and _wet_ and _hot_ and there's a naked boy in front of me letting me do _whatever_ the fuck I want to him - doing whatever I tell him. He tests the theory. "Say my name." 

"What?" He pulls out ever so slightly, "Ah, fuck - Mike - Michael." He pushes back in and is rewarded with a beautiful sound from the maori boy. 

"How's it feel?" 

"Full," he breathes, "Like there's a dick inside me." 

Michael grins at that, and slowly pulls a little out before pushing in again, making small movements until his breathing evens out and he can go a little harder... a little harder. Until Calum's fingers are digging into the headboard - maybe getting splinters - and Michael is fucking him so hard the whole bed moves with them and every neighbour in a 50 metre radius will probably complain at the reception desk. He wonders if the boys can hear them from their rooms, and for some reason, it makes him snap his hips harder, makes him grab the hand-prints so Calum's practically lifeless moaning in front of him, his head against the bed as he keeps his arms stretched up to grip the headboard like Michael's asked him too. 

"Gonna - Mike - babe-" 

"Fuckin' don't," Michael hisses, slowing down again, leaning over him and kissing his back, "Barely even started."

Calum takes a deep breath, "You're gonna kill me - fuck. Get why groupies always wanna see _you_ again - Jesus Christ." 

Michael smiles at that, doesn't know why he admits it, really, "And yet you're the only person I've slept with more than once." 

"Fuck me before I say something stupid," Calum whispers, leaning back again. Michael does as he asks, just this once, because he knows for a fact that this shouldn't be a recurring thing. Shouldn't be something they're doing at all - and here they are, for the second? Third. Third time. He wants to say a bunch of stupid things too, but if they're both breathless and panting, unable to talk, then nobody can say anything. So he makes them breathless. He fucks stupid words - all words - out of them, until they both come undone and the sheets are dirty and full of sweat and they can do nothing but collapse next to each other and catch their breath. 

Michael finally undresses, pushes his clothes onto the floor whilst barely moving and closes his eyes. It takes seconds for Calum to lean into his side, Michael turning and putting an arm over him. 

"We really shouldn't keep doing this," Calum whispers once a few minutes pass. 

"I know," Michael says, "Imagine if sex ruins the band. Fuckin' hell, we'd never live it down. Always thought Luke would end up fucking it for us all, one day." At least Calum laughs. "It's fine - we're fine. Get some sleep." 

He stands up, turns out the light and gets back into the bed, adopting the same position. 

"Michael... you're really good in bed. Like. _Really_ good." 

"Did you not think I would be?" Michael snorts. "You've slept with me before." 

"Not like that. Not when you're all - power, and stuff. Liked it, s'all." 

Even in the dark, Michael can see Calum staring at his lips. He leans forward, kisses him ever so slightly, and pulls away again. "Liked it too," he admits. "Sleep." 

*****

**b o n u s**

*****

Michael learns that Calum has a dirty mouth when they're home for a few months and Michael's holed himself up in the basement with the xbox and greasy pizza boxes. It's 2014, and in two months, they'll be on another tour with One Direction - but for now? For now, Michael's at his childhood home, getting fed up by his Mum, texting the boys to stay in contact rather than living with them. Missing them. 

It's a shock, to see Calum call him at three in the morning on a random Wednesday night. Calum usually has a pretty good schedule when they're not touring - spends most of his time off sleeping, actually. 

Michael answers quickly, with a short, "You okay?" as he shoots some weird fucking dogs that are coming towards him in Destiny 2. Calum just breathes. "Cal?" He asks, still shooting. 

"What're you wearing?" 

Michael immediately pauses the game and takes the phone off loud speaker. 

"Excuse me?" 

"What're you wearing?" Calum asks again, unashamed.

Michael smiles, licks his lips and doesn't say anything for a while. Just listens to him breathe. Finally, he sighs, "Nothing, baby... that what you wanna hear? That I'm naked?" 

"Are you?" Calum asks, still breathless. Michael knows he's getting off. 

He looks down at his boxers and shrugs, "Almost."

"You should be - cause I just - I just really wanna suck you off," Michael sits up slowly, puts down the controller as he keeps the phone pressed to his ear, "Been thinking about it since we left tour. Can't stop thinking about it." 

"I can tell," Michael whispers, swallowing the liquid in his mouth. "You're desperate, huh?" 

"Desperate for your cock in my mouth?" Calum huffs a laugh, and Michael can hear the slick sounds of him jacking off now - can feel everything going straight to said cock. "Yeah - guess so. Definitely." 

"So desperate you gotta call me at 3am jacking off," Michael states in a low, raspy voice. Calum says nothing. "That what you really want?" He asks, shifting, "You wanna suck on me?" 

Michael imagines him nodding wildly, hair slicked to his face. Imagines him lying in the bed he grew up in with those blue and green striped sheets he's had for years that his mum still washes every other week even when he's not there to keep up the routine as if he is. 

"Want you to come on my face - wanna know what you taste like." 

"Fucking..." Michael mutters, shifting, "You're confident on the phone for someone who put his dick in my face and then got surprised when I put my mouth on it." 

"Means nothing." 

"Never does," Michael replies easily, even though the words come up his throat like sandpaper. And he knows, deep down, he really does. Knows that if it really meant nothing they would've stopped doing it after the first time - hell, they wouldn't have done it in the first place. But he agrees - because if it means something, then it means something bad. "I know exactly what you taste like, though. Can still taste you." 

He can hear the groan alongside the laboured breathing down the line, and, not for the first time, he wonders what Calum looks like while he's jacking off. Wonders how he does it to himself when nobody's watching. If it's as hot as fucking him. 

"Never done this," Calum breathes, "Never been this desperate for someone." 

"Gave you one good time and now you can't stop thinking about me?" Michael grins, lying down on the sofa now, stretching out his legs. "Nice to hear I'm not the only desperate one."

"Wasn't just one good time though, was it..." Calum breathes, and he almost sounds amused. "Can't lie to ourselves, Clifford." 

"Don't like that tone," Michael replies immediately in a sultry whisper, "Preferred when you were begging for my come down your throat." 

"Fuck," he groans quietly. Michael hears those slick sounds again. "I started fingering myself 'cause of you," Michael can't help that his eyes flicker, and there's an obvious patch of wet on his boxers now, being tented up so he can really see what fucking _words_ are doing to him. "Doesn't feel as good as you - need you to do it for me, I think." 

"Yeah?" 

"God yeah... need everything from you." 

"I wanna give you everything," Michael mumbles, hearing footsteps a few floors above him. Probably just his mum or dad using the bathroom, but it still makes him talk a little quieter, press the phone a little closer. "Wanna give you more than everything." 

It's a little deep, and probably too much for a quick wank over the phone, but Calum moans regardless, and Michael has to squeeze himself and close his eyes for a few seconds.

"It's taking so much to not get in my fucking car and just drive to yours, you know that?"

"Phone sex not enough for you?" Michael whispers with a smile, touching himself now, because this is what the whole call is about. No point wasting it when Calum sounds this good anyway. In a twisted way, he wishes he could record it - listen to it when he was on his own on tour and wanted someone - Calum, mostly. He knew he didn't have the balls to do it, would be fucked if Luke went on his phone to beat him at Candy Crush and found it. "Listening to you is jus'... fucking heaven. Jesus Cal." 

"You getting off?" 

"Course 'm getting off, idiot - I'm listening to you." 

Michael wishes he could see him, because suddenly he's moaning high pitched, like he did when they first fucked and he was so overwhelmed that he bit down on Michael's ear and made all these _noises_ right into his ear - and fuck. _Fuck_.

"Again," he commands, without even thinking about it. Suddenly there's a whimper down the line, and Michael can hardly control himself; pulls his cock out of his boxers and starts properly jacking off, closing his eyes and picturing that first time - when they were young and naive and had no fucking idea what they were doing. "Guess what I'm thinking 'bout." 

"Well... I'd hope me," he says breathlessly. "Dunno, though." 

Michael cracks a smile, but it falters as he pushes his hips up slightly, "First time, when you got bite-y in that bed you're in right now." 

"Whiskey drunk," Calum whispers, and Michael can hear the fond tone in his voice, "Barely lasted. Now look at us." 

"Now look at _you_ \- begging to suck me off and shit. Can't keep your hands off me." 

"I'd argue if you were wrong." 

Michael bites his lip, "Let me do whatever I want last time... I like choking people - on my cock. Like making people cry cause it's too much." Calum moans, "Wanna see you gag on me, when you do... wanna see you take it." 

"I'm gonna come," he whispers. "You're so - fuck - you're so _everything_ ," there's a string of moans and whimpers and Michael can't fucking stop himself when he jacks himself to finish, making low noise into the phone himself, coughing in case people are still awake to try and cover it a little. He still gets the hear the noise Calum makes when he finishes, and his dick lets out one more spurt at the sound, his whole body shaking briefly. 

It's silent for a couple of long seconds, filled with heavy breathing and no movement, until Michael stretches and says, "You better hope I haven't stained this couch." 

"Sorry, love." Michael hums, smiling at the pet name. "See you soon, Mikey. Love you." 

"Love you-" The line cuts and Michael huffs, getting up to get a wipe from the drawer under the TV. He has no idea what the fuck just happened but he definitely likes it. 

*****

**f o u r**

*****

Michael, for a while, really thought it wouldn't happen again. He and Cal are best friends again for months, act exactly like they do with Ashton and Luke, and if Michael thought about it - it's really just because they have a lot going on. Planning their first headline tour, finally releasing their self-titled album so they've got something to tour _with_. He doesn't think about it though. He just thinks they're done. 

It's not until May 2015 in Lisbon, Portugal that Michael realises how completely _stupid_ the idea that he and Calum are done actually is. It's after the first real show - the one for tour and not pre-tour (as Luke calls it, Michael would really just pin it on the tour if he could) and they're drinking in a club to celebrate and getting pissed off their faces even though they've got to get to Madrid in Spain tomorrow. 

It's not even far into the night when Michael realises. 

He's barely had three drinks (but maybe a few shots) when he see's the pretty Portuguese girl at the bar with Calum, laughing as she leans into him, twirling her long brown hair. Michael raises an eyebrow at it, but continues listening to Luke and Ashton at the table they're at. 

He buys her a drink. Michael pretends not to notice. 

She pulls him to the dance floor. Michael, slightly irritated, pretends not to notice. 

They dance. 

She drinks her fruity drink and he smiles as she says something into his ear, and then she continues to dance with another girl as he goes back to the bar. 

"I'm going to the bar," Michael smiles at Luke. 

"You have a whole drink-" 

Michael picks up his whole drink and downs it on the way, settling next to Calum and placing the empty pint glass down loud enough that he turns. He smiles, leans into him. 

"You gonna buy me a drink too, sweetheart?" Michael asks, bittersweet and with a teasing tone.

Calum tilts his head, smile raising on one side. When he orders, he orders himself a JD and coke, and then asks for a double vodka, lime and soda in a pint glass - Michael's usual. 

"Forget about that girl?" Michael asks. 

"I'm sure she's got plenty of drinks back at hers. I guess I'll see later," he shrugs, giving the bartender his card as Michael blinks. 

"Or not," he says loudly. Calum looks over at him. Michael grabs his drink and goes back to Luke and Ashton, sitting down with a scowl on his face. Calum drops next to him seconds later, putting an arm around his shoulders as he talks to the boys about the show. 

"Why shouldn't I go back to hers?" He whispers in Michael's ear once Ashton is telling Luke that he looks at their asses on stage sometimes - a drunken confession he makes often after a show that they're all very used to at this point. Michael says nothing, "Do I have other options?" 

"I don't know," Michael sighs, "Do you? Probably." 

Calum grins, clinks their glasses together and presses his palm on the table to stand up. His thighs barely leave the booth before Michael is gripping at one, pushing him back down. 

"Woah, you okay?" Luke asks Calum. Michael raises an eyebrow, looks to him. 

Calum blushes and smiles, biting his lip slightly. Michael squeezes his thigh, "I'm - I'm good. I'm definitely good. Might go home with that girl over there." 

Luke and Ashton look over at her and start making jokes about it, but mostly say that he should - it's been a while, they say. He deserves it after a good show. Michael lets go of him and drinks. He doesn't see the look Calum gives him in response. 

"I'm getting shots," he states suddenly. 

"We gotta be up early, Mike-" He's already walking away from the table, getting his wallet out. 

He orders four. His tolerance is too high now he's in a touring, partying band. It's expensive. Luckily, touring also pays moderately well. 

"Hello," A girl says, appearing next to him. "You're in that band, right? You played tonight? My sister went to see you." 

"Guitarist," Michael says, "You didn't go?" 

"Don't know you well enough," she smiles, leaning over the bar. Her top falls open, and she looks down but does nothing. Four shots are placed in front of him. 

"That's a real shame," Michael smirks. "We're moderately okay, really." 

"I hope you do all the marketing," she replies instantly. "Brilliant technique - _we're moderately okay_. Must be why my sister adores you." 

Michael shakes his head with a smile and takes two of the shots. She watches him, eyebrows raised. 

"Drinking to forget something?" 

He hands her a shot and takes one for himself, doing it at the same time. 

"Always," he says cryptically. "You wanna show me how the Portuguese party?" 

"Always," she takes his hand and pulls him away from the bar, further and further into dancers and sweaty bodies and loud music until there's nothing but noise and dancing and flashing lights. 

She flirts and he tries. He really does at first. But then he can see Calum dancing with that pretty brown haired girl across from him and then they're staring at each other but dancing with other people and all he wants to do is drag Calum back to the hotel, order pizza and cry because this isn't supposed to happen like this. 

It's been almost four years since the first time. 

In the end, he does drag Calum back to the hotel. They abandon the girls, abandon Luke, Ashton, the crew, and sneak out like children. They don't order pizza and cry - Michael rides him and spits awful things that Calum should probably pull him up on - things about jealously and possession and blame - but in the morning, when the alarm goes off that means they have to get ready to fly to Spain, nothing's changed.

And maybe Michael wanted his words to change something this time. 

Maybe Michael is finally realising that this isn't going to end. Not unless it's in heartbreak. 

*****

**f i v e**

*****

Not even a month later, when they're starting the English leg of the tour, can they keep their fucking hands off each other. Not even sexually; Calum spends more time playing with Michael's hair than he does the XBox on the bus. Michael's hands spend more time on Calum's thighs than they do, collectively, on _anything_ else. 

Michael notices they're even doing it now - watching a movie but pressing their sides together, his hand grazing between their legs, skimming up and down the hem on Calum's black skinny jeans. They've been like it all month. The boys have noticed, given them confused little smiles and teased when they're not together. Nothing serious. Certainly nothing that tells Michael they know about the sex. 

Calum leans forward to get a drink, and Michael stretches his arm out along the sofa, putting it around his waist when he settles back in. Calum's fingers envelope his hand for a few seconds, and then he opens the can of sprite and continues watching the movie. 

"Are you two okay?" Ashton asks, snorting. 

"Hmm?" Calum mumbles, drinking, looking over to him nonchalantly. 

"You're both very clingy lately," he points out. 

"Oh," Calum says easily, shrugging, "Probably the discovery of our undeniable love for each other." 

Luke snorts and chokes on macaroni, and as Ashton pat his back, Calum grinning, they look at each other with small, fading smiles, and Calum's fingers slide between his own as he shuffles closer and props his legs up. 

Michael focuses on the joke, and wonders if he can really call it a _joke_ anymore. 

*

Later that night, long after Luke's fallen asleep on the sofa and Ashton's carried him off to bed; long after the music they all play through earphones has died into silence and the automatic lights have gone off, Michael wakes up to Calum climbing into his bunk in boxers, shoving his legs over dramatically, huffing and puffing until Michael half sits up in the pitch black and asks, "What the fuck are you doing?" 

"I am _trying_ to get into bed, what does it look like?" 

"What's wrong with your bed?" Michael whisper yells, throwing his arms up even though they can hardly see each other. 

"You aren't in it." 

He shoves Michael's legs over again, and Michael sighs but shuffles, trying to evenly distribute the blanket as Calum gets comfortable, slipping between his legs, curling up and pulling him closer and closer until they're breathing the same air. 

"Better?" Michael asks. 

"Yes," he whispers, finally, letting out a deep breath. "Much." 

"Good," Michael whispers back. Calum continues breathing his air, and Michael can feel the warm minty breath over his cheek, can feel how Calum's lips are parted next to him, and after a few long seconds of static silence, he turns, leans forward, and slowly connects their lips before pulling away. 

That's all he really wants until Calum threads a hand through his hair and pulls him back in again, kissing him harder, longer. Kissing him with heat like they might actually fuck in a bed that can hardly fit a small dog, never mind two fully grown adult children. He ends it with a thread of chaste kisses, pulling away to tuck his head back in its original position. 

"Night," he whispers, voice considerably more shaken up. 

Michael kisses his forehead and gets comfy too. 

*

"Honestly. Adorable, kind of." 

"A bit weird." 

"It's not weird, Luke, they're probably just missing home," Ashton voice seeps into his mind. 

"It's weird." 

Michael opens one eye and huffs at the sight of Ashton and Luke cooing over them, curtain wide open exposing Calum's head tucked up against his neck, both of them cuddled together under the blanket. 

"Fuck off," Michael rasps. 

"And loverboy awakens," Ashton grins, "Cute thing you've got going on here." He gestures between their heads, smirking. 

"Fuck. Off." 

"Alright, alright," he holds up his hands, drawing the curtain back across. He and Luke giggle as they walk out of the room, door slamming behind them. He hears the word breakfast, fading voices, and then the room is enveloped in silence. 

He shuffles, pulls Calum a little closer, and breathes down into his hair. He places a small kiss on the top of his head before closing his eyes once again, wondering what the two of them are doing right now - thinking about this huge change in dynamic that he doesn't know how to hide without getting defensive about it. 

But then he feels soft breath against his neck, and a nuzzling set of lips pressing into him, and all those concerns are let out in one singular sigh. 

"You're awake." 

Calum hums, kissing his neck lazily, like its natural. Michael stays silent, enjoys the feeling of a boy sliding over his body, sitting up on his lap but still with his head dropped forward to nip at the sensitive parts under his jaw. 

His hips move with an accord of their own. 

Calum pulls at the bottom of his shirt and Michael leans forward and holds up his arms, lets him slide it off easily and go straight back down to kissing at his chest. 

"What are we doing?" 

He feels Calum smile against his skin. 

"I'm kissing you." 

Michael's head falls back to the pillow, his eyes rolling, "Here?" 

"Shush." 

Michael opens his mouth to spit out some witty reply but suddenly Calum's taking off his boxers, pressing his hand against the hard-on under Michael's and ignoring the exasperated look he's receiving. 

"Do you keep lube in here?" Michael blinks, reaches up to a pocket against the wall and hands him the bottle. Calum winks at him. 

"We can't-" 

"Shush." 

Michael stares as he spreads it on two of his fingers, watches them disappear behind him. His eyes blow wide as Calum starts writhing against him, obviously fingering himself. He kicks off his underwear and looks down at his naked body, at his dick twitching, and manoeuvres his hand so he can touch himself too. 

"Speak to me," Calum whispers suddenly, looking between his hand slowly working his dick and his eyes, which refuse to leave Calum's body. 

"I thought you wanted me to be quiet, baby," Michael bites his lip, meeting Calum's eye. "Thought you didn't like my voice, I was getting self-conscious." 

"I love your voice," he replies quickly. 

The words fall out of Michael's mouth before he even comprehends what he's saying, "I love how you look right now." 

Calum falters, takes the fingers out of himself and replaces Michael's hand, slowly working him up further. He grunts a little, but otherwise remains quiet, overtly conscious of the rest of their band separated only by a shitty door. 

(He knows it's not soundproof. They all learnt that when Ashton got his first girlfriend and decided to fuck her in the middle of the day in his bunk. It was an awkward afternoon for everyone involved.)

"I love hearing you moan." 

"Likewise," Michael gasps, "I love fucking you." 

Calum's leg is over him again, spread out for him to take if he wanted. Michael stays still, watches, and lets him do whatever he wants. 

"I love your tattoos." 

"I love how obsessed with me you are," Michael smiles. 

He gasps, his eyes squeezing closed as Calum drops onto him, sinking down until he's taken all of it. "I love..." 

He's moaning, digging his nails into Michael's shoulders, can't contain himself. Michael bumps up his hips, jolting them so Calum gasps and grinds back down. 

"You love what?" He forces out. 

Calum's grip hardens as he grinds against him, feeling insane wrapped around him. Making him see stars and galaxies and the deep chocolate colour of Calum's eyes. 

There's a nip on his earlobe, sending sparks down his body, and Calum whispers, "I think you already know." 

Michael isn't going to last. 

He's got all these thoughts rushing through him and he can barely pinpoint any of them other than the need to hold Calum's waist and help him move. His vision is blurry, and he's trying his best to hold on but- 

"You feel too good," he forces out, "you feel so fucking good, slow down." 

He does, grinding against him, littering kisses all over his neck, his face, until their lips meet and they're panting into each others mouths. There's something incredibly erotic about the flash in Calum's eyes when he looks up to meet his own, panting, with hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat. Michael can't help the moan that slips out of his mouth and suddenly he can't make any noise at all, because there's a tan hand clamped over it keeping him quiet, and Calum is rocking back and fore like a fucking pornstar, leaning back and tilting his head to follow. 

Michael lets out a frustrated groan into his hand. His lifts his fingers up to touch heaving stomach muscles, gliding across the faint traces of abs down until his thumb brushes against the head of Calum's cock. There's a short gasp, and his grinding rhythm falters as he spasms in response.

" _Fuck_ , yes," Michael's eyes flutter, and he jerks his hips in response. "Want you to come with me inside you."

The bed squeaks as Michael thrusts up and amidst the _fuck me fuck me fuck me_ that Calum is breathing he manages to throw him around like a doll, slamming into his prostrate and making the man on top of his a crumbling mess in his arms, practically begging to be touched and kissed and man-handled. 

Gruff little _uh, uh, uh_ sounds are lost in the beads of sweat dripping down Calum's neck, and there's a snap above his head as part of the curtain hiding them rips down under Calum's thigh but he doesn't care, just continues thrusting up like an animal while Calum falls apart in front of his eyes. 

"You don't even have to touch me, I'm gonna come," it's barely legible, but it's all Michael needs to fuck him that little bit harder, slamming him down by his hips. Calum touches himself anyway, and Michael drools at the sight of pre-cum making his fingers glisten and all-too suddenly Calum's excruciatingly tight around him, spilling onto his chest and moaning brokenly through every thrust. Michael lets go, and it make's Calum moan further, dropping down to his body to kiss his neck, whispering _oh, God_ into his ear like he can't control himself. 

They both lie there panting and sticky, still attached, for almost five minutes. 

"I think I'm almost done pretending this isn't going to happen again," Calum whispers against his cheek. 

"I think so too." 

"We were... loud." 

"Yep." 

"Do you think they-" 

"Definitely." 

Calum huffs, a smile on his face as he slowly lifts himself up, off Michael's softening dick, and drops next to him. Another few minutes pass by as they regain their strength. 

"Do you think we should, like, do something?" Michael asks quietly, counting the beams that line the top of the bunk. "Like, dinner, or something... maybe?" 

A door slams, ratting the room. Calum jumps and pulls the cover that been shoved to the back of the bed over their bodies. A fist bangs against the door of the bunks, "We're back!" Luke yells. Michael's chest visibly deflates, "And we brought breakfast so get out of fucking bed!" He slams his fist against the door twice more and walks away. 

"They were out," Calum laughs. 

"And once again the universe aligns in our favour," Michael smirks, pushing aside the part of the curtain that wasn't ripped down and stepping out of the bunk, stretching his arms. 

He begins getting dressed, and as he's wiping cum off his chest with a wet-wipe, he hears Calum quietly admit, "I think a date might be fun." 

*****

**\+ O N E**

*****

They're talking about a trip to London when it all comes spilling out. 

His mom think's it'll be nice, to get away with some family and have some time away from work and music. She's suggesting how Michael might disguise himself when he says it. 

"I've been sleeping with Calum." 

There's a few moments of silence, and then a soft, "Oh? Will he be joining us in London?" 

"No, Mom. I... I've been _sleeping_ with him."

"I got that, honey," she says gently. "For how long?" 

"The first time was after we played our first show," he admits. "So. Years." 

"Oh," she repeats, "Well I know we're close love, but you really don't need to tell me about your sex life."

"He's not my boyfriend," Michael says quickly, "I don't think- I don't know. I don't know why I'm telling you." 

"I don't mind who you sleep with, Michael. As long as you're being safe, and thinking about how this might affect your career, alright? I think Calum's grown into a lovely man. I'm not really sure what you'd like me to say." 

"Ask me how I feel about him." 

She sighs, "I don't think I need to, sweetheart." Michael swallows. "I think Luke and Ashton should know, if you're both feeling this way." 

"So it's serious then?" 

She lets out a laugh, "If you're talking to me about sex I guess it must be." 

"Please stop saying the word sex," he groans, "I just... I guess I just wanted to break it to you first, before everything kicks off. Maybe it won't though, I don't know. Maybe nothing's going to change after all."

*

The day after 'the bunk incident' they have a show to play in Paris - the city of love. It's irony punching Michael in the face. It goes as well as every show they've done, full of energy and deafeningly loud. Luke suggests going to a club but he and Calum meet eyes and Michael immediately knows that he shouldn't go and possibly miss something more important. 

"You guys go," he suggests, glancing at Calum, "have fun, let loose, whatever." 

"I'm up for dancing," Ashton sings, unwrapping the bandanna from his curls. 

"I'll skip, but you and Luke have fun," Calum says easily, throwing some cheesy finger guns that make Luke giggle. They go off down some hallways together, and Calum winks at Michael before walking the opposite way, towards the back exit that leads to the bus. "Could you bring my phone and stuff when you come back?" 

"Sure," Michael answers, more confused than anything. He turns, dazed, and begins following Luke and Ashton to their dressing room. When he gets in there Luke and Ashton are getting changed and discussing clubs, but Michael heads straight for the bathroom, ready for a quick shower. Eager to get away. He's out and dressed in sweats five minutes later, grabbing both his and Calum's things to take to the bus. 

"Are you sure you don't wanna come, Mike?" Luke asks, "It must have been a while, huh?" He winks. 

"Virgin," Michael coughs, smiling at him innocently. Luke laughs and flips him off. 

He almost jogs back to the bus.

The door is unlocked, inviting, and when he walks in Calum's holding a bottle of Jack Daniels, Netlfix home screen up on the TV, and he's sitting on a pile of blankets. 

"So you wanted a date, right?" He waves the bottle. "It's honey flavoured." 

Michael smiles at him. 

"A bit cheesy?" Calum asks, "A bit too romantic? Would you rather me just shag you senseless?" 

"We can't do both?" He finally asks. "No, this is lovely. Just what I pictured. I'm picking the film." 

Calum groans but hands him the remote, before beginning to arrange some of the blankets so they can get comfortable. Once he's got a set-up he's happy with, Michael is pulled back and positioned between Calum's legs, both of them lying down. Michael's still looking for the film when he hears the seal of the bottle break. 

"Do you think having this on the rocks, with actual glasses, would be more romantic?" 

"Totally," Michael replies, "But this is more us." He takes the bottle from his hand and has a swig, grimacing afterwards. He chooses a romantic comedy that only looks moderately atrocious and settles into Calum's legs. 

It's nice and romantic and wholesome, and Michael loves it. A quarter of a bottle of whiskey in, he starts becoming fidgety, rolling his shoulders, moving his head up and down, wiggling about, before suddenly turning over and kissing Calum's crotch over his loose shorts. Calum slides a hand through his hair and coaxes him up, immediately kissing him with a burning heat. Evidently, they had both been waiting for the other to snap. 

Michael practically crawls up him, sprawled across his lap. He holds a hand against Calum's face as they kiss, the other is kept tangled in his hair, keeping their heads as close as possible. He's been lost in Calum for a long time, and he's sure that he'll never be found. There's a nagging voice in the back of his mind reminding him of the countless boundaries they've crossed, of the threshold that's been leaped over never to be looked back at. Calum's hand creeps down the back of his sweats and grips his ass. 

"You're so cute," is whispered against his mouth, "Stop overthinking it." 

And they're kissing again. 

There are fireworks going off in his mind and it feels like a bad pop song should be playing in the background, but he can't even hear what's happening in the movie because all he can think of is the slick sounds their lips are making as they deepen the kiss. Calum's nails are digging into his flesh and his skin is burning but all he knows how to do right now is move his mouth and taste Calum's tongue. 

The only reason he registers the door opening is the shock of Calum pulling his hand back and turning his head. There's a small gasp and a flood runs through his head as he falls back to his own side of the sofa and looks with scared, wide eyes at Ashton stood at the door and Luke pushing his way in behind him. 

"The club was shit," Luke says nonchalantly, "As if people in France don't party on Thursdays." 

"Uh huh," Michael replies, voice high. Luke looks at him from the kitchen counter and laughs, turning to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. 

Ashton turns and closes the front door, still wide eyed and growing redder. 

"Are you guys watching a film?" Luke asks. 

"Uh huh," Michael repeats, quieter as Luke grabs the bottle of whiskey from the table, inspecting it before putting it back down. 

Luke collapses onto the other sofa, motioning for Ashton to sit next to him. Ashton takes a wide berth of them and drags his feet as he goes, eyes still wide. Calum leans forward and turns the volume of the TV up a significant amount, visibly traumatised. 

In all these years not once had a person caught them. 

"Have I missed something?" Luke asks after a few seconds of silence. 

Both Calum and Michael simultaneously turn to Ashton, making Luke do the same. 

"Uh," he stumbles, "I don't know?" Luke laughs but it dies in his throat when Ashton continues quizzically staring between Calum and Michael. "What the fuck are you guys _doing?"_

There are excuses stuck to the roof of Michael's mouth that won't drop down. 

"What were they doing?" Luke asks quietly, leaning forward. 

"Kissing." 

There it is. 

Luke's eyes blow wide, and he moves his whole body to turn to look at them both. 

"Are you guys drunk again?" He smirks. 

"Yes," Michael whispers, because its the first thing that comes into his head. 

"No," Calum counters. "It's just a thing that we do. Sometimes." 

"Again?" Michael echoes, frowns. Luke winks at him and licks his lips. It eases Michael's nerves like nothing before, and he finds himself quietly breathing a sigh of relief. As if Luke would be the one to calm him down. 

Ashton still looks entirely astonished and confused, and Michael can see the endless question's forming on the tip of his tongue, but Calum leans forward and turns the TV up even more.

Ashton lets them believe that they'll get away with it for a short while. 

"A thing you do?" He eventually repeats. "Kissing... is just a thing you do?" 

"Sometimes," Calum repeats. "Is it not a thing you sometimes do?" 

"Not with Michael." 

Calum hesitates, and then, almost so quietly that the arguing couple on the big screen drown it out, "You're missing out." 

Ashton laughs at least, even if the confusion still lingers on his features like a bad smell. He leans forward and picks up the remote, muting the TV. Michael realises that he's digging his nails into his palm, leaving dark crescent shapes imprinted into it. 

"So they kiss," Luke dismisses with a wave, "let it go, Dad." He tries to reach for the remote, but Ashton holds it out of reach. Luke huffs. "God Ashton, we've kissed once. I kissed Michael once. I'd kiss Calum if I got the chance - I don't think it's a big deal." 

"Yeah but... sometimes. Not once. Not drunk?" 

Luke shrugs at the two of them, laughing, "You guys look shit scared. We're all making this very dramatic, why don't I grab some glasses and we'll pour out some of that jack, ey?" 

"You don't mind?" Michael asks. Apparently, Luke should have been his favourite all along. He makes a mental note to ease up on the teasing. Luke's already grabbing glasses from the cupboards in the kitchen. 

"What's the big deal?" Luke laughs, "What? Like you're fucking or something?" He snorts, but he must see how Michael's face loses more colour, because he lets out a little, "Oh," and suddenly isn't laughing anymore. "Oh." 

Ashton doesn't seem to know what to say either. 

An uncomfortable amount of time passes in silence, until Calum finally breaks and reassures, "Nothing's going to change, between the four of us. Or, like, the band." 

Ashton whispers, "Okay." Michael thinks he looks a little traumatised. 

"It'd be really great if one of you could say something," Michael finally forces out of his mouth. "Like - literally anything about this whatsoever. Shouting might even be reassuring." 

"We aren't going to shout, don't be silly. You're my best mates," Ashton smiles, but he still has that confused puppy dog look painted on. "Luke, sit back down." 

He does, putting the glasses on the table. He doesn't need an invite to starting pouring out the jack, and pushing toward towards them, taking one for him self. 

"Sometimes I think people are scared of change," Luke says, suddenly. Michael knows he shares the sentiment of the other two when everyone looks at him like he's spouting utter bullshit once again, to lighten the mood. Luke grins as if he knows what the three of them are thinking, "You see it everywhere, don't you, people don't want anything to change, ever, and when it does and they settle with it, they don't want it to change again." 

Michael groans. Luke throws a pillow at him. 

"Fuck off, I've got a point." He huffs, "Dunno, it's obviously going to change the dynamic, isn't it?" 

"No." 

"I didn't say it was a bad thing," Luke continues, rolling his eyes at Michael's interruption. "I'm just saying that change isn't the worst thing in the world, if that's both what you're looking so scared of right now." 

"When did you get so philosophical?" Ashton asks. 

Luke just waves him off, "So you're hooking up and things might change, big deal. We're brothers, ey? Well..." He pulls a face between Michael and Calum, smiling after, "Sort of. Do what you want for me. Let change run its course." 

Calum squints, "You're taking this awfully well."

"I've had a lot of shots, I'm not going to lie," Luke admits, "But it really is none of business who either of you want to sleep with, and if that's each other, so be it." He shrugs, "Ash?" 

He leans forward and picks up his glass from the table, "He's got a point." 

"You're not even going to shout a little bit?" Michael asks, "I've had this - this fucking scenario in my head where we all fall out and scream down the bus and break up the band, all sorts. And you're just fine with it, just like that?" 

"Yep," Luke smiles. 

"It's been _years._ " Michael stresses, almost urging them to freak out, "Nothing? Not even a little homophobic slur?"

"Gross," Ashton grimaces, sighs, "I don't know why you both thought you had to hide whatever this is for years, but you're both fucking idiots. Kiss, shag - get married or whatever, I'm with Luke on this one. It's your life. Just don't fall out because we'd be very upset." 

"Alright then, I'm in love with Michael. Have been since we were kids," Calum tells them, and then he turns to look at Michael with glassy, big eyes. "He didn't know that - I've never said it, by the way," he tells Ashton and Luke. "Just so you're in loop." 

"Oh, so now we're allowed in the loop? After all these years?" Luke snorts, sipping his whiskey. 

Michael's heart is full, and there are butterflies in his stomach and a flash of their first kiss in Michael's childhood bedroom runs through his memory like fire and he can feel his lips pulling up into a smile. 

"I'm in love with you too," he says, and then, "Have been since we were kids." 

Calum reaches across and grabs his hand, stroking across his thumb. 

"Alright!" Ashton yells, raising his glass, "To being in love with your bandmates and not telling your other bandmates for a very long time!" 

Michael and Calum lean forward, pick up the drinks Luke poured for them, and are putting the glass to their mouths to throw back as Luke quickly adds, 

"To change." 


End file.
